


Cry

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actor Derek, Actor Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Human, Cheating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3409538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles didn’t enter Derek’s mind once after that. Not even when the man, who had told him his name was Max, was climbing into his lap, looking up at him through his long lashes. He didn’t think of Stiles as the man began to kiss and nip at his neck, leaving behind a trail of incriminating marks. Heck, he didn’t even think of Stiles when the mad was grinding desperately against his thigh, crying out his name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles hadn’t called in three days. Derek knew that he was being irrational - Stiles has a life, he’s allowed to have fun, but that doesn’t mean Derek can’t sulk about it. That was why he was sat in a shoddy bar at eleven o’clock, drowning his sorrows with copious amounts of insipid beer. He was tucked away in the corner, hiding himself from the swarms of people. The man sat on the stool opposite has been gawking at him for the past twenty minutes and Derek was starting to become frustrated by the attention, sending him the harshest glare he could muster up in his tipsy state, though that only seemed to spur him on. He climbed down from the stool, tripping over himself as he moved towards the table, his drink dripping all over the place. Derek couldn’t help but smirk - it reminded him of Stiles - the gangly body and clumsy movements. 

“You’re Derek. Derek Hale.” The boy had said, hovering by the table. Derek grinned, giving him the once over.

“The one and only.” He joked, gesturing for the boy to take a seat next to him.

“You’re awesome, man. I love your work.” Derek chuckled when he saw the man’s cheeks redden and took another large sip of his drink.

“Thanks.”

-

Stiles didn’t enter Derek’s mind once after that. Not even when the man, who had told him his name was Max, was climbing into his lap, looking up at him through his long lashes. He didn’t think of Stiles as the man began to kiss and nip at his neck, leaving behind a trail of incriminating marks. Heck, he didn’t even think of Stiles when the mad was grinding desperately against his thigh, crying out his name. He was seemingly lost in the moment, completely transfixed by the smaller man. He allowed himself to be dragged out of the pub and into the car park, not caring who saw them. He moaned as his body was slammed up against the wall, his trousers tugged down around his ankles. He was so lost in the moment that he didn’t notice the flashes coming from the car parked to the side of them.

“What was that?” Max had asked, pulling himself away from Derek. He should have paid attention, he should have listened to the man, but instead he gripped the back of Max’s head and pulled him back, urging him on.

“It was probably nothing, keep going.”

-

It was seven in the morning when Derek was being shaken awake by Scott. The younger man was trembling, seething with anger.

“Get up you asshole.” He spat, hitting him over the head with his pillow. “You might want to see this.” 

Derek tried half heartedly to fight back against Scott but eventually gave up, pulling himself out from under the covers, his head pounding as he as he did so. Scott reached over, grabbed the TV remote and switched it on as he perched on the bed beside him, ignoring the way Derek was glaring at him. Derek rolled over onto his front, pushing himself up on his elbows, watching the screen in front of him. His eyes widened when he saw the image plastered all over the television.

It was a picture of him and Max from last night. Derek was pushed up against the wall with his head thrown back and his trousers down by his ankles. Max was knelt down in front of him.

“Shit.” He moaned. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” He leaped off of the bed and began frantically searching around for his phone, spitting out profanities as he did so.

“Fuck, Scott. Have you seen my phone? I need to call Stiles. Fuck! Do you think he’s seen this?” After getting no reply he turned back to Scott who was still sat in the same position as before, a blank expression on his face.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Derek?” Scott said. The words were meant to come out as bitter and aggressive, though they sounded more desperate than anything.

“Scott, I really don’t have time for this. Have you seen my phone or not?” Instead of getting a reply, Scott reached into his back pocket and pulled out Derek’s phone, throwing it at him as hard as he possibly could before storming out of the room.

-

Derek had called fifty times with no reply. Fifty times. He couldn’t understand how he had done this, how he has fucked things up so royally. His memories from the night before were hazy - he had been completely wasted. He tried to convince himself that Stiles would understand - he hadn’t known what he was doing, though even he knew how weak his argument was.

“Fuck!” He screeched, hurling his phone at the wall.

-

Derek was standing outside of Stiles’ front door, a bunch of flowers dangling from his hands. The lights were on inside, telling him the Stiles was home, though he was refusing to answer the door. He tried again, desperately banging his hand against the wooden frame.

“Stiles.” he whined, unable to stop his voice from cracking in between his cries. He must have looked pathetic standing there, his face red and puffy from crying as he repeatedly called out his boyfriends name, throwing himself against the door in his desperate attempts to get inside. He was stood there for nearly half an hour before the door was thrust open, revealing Mr Stilinski’s ample frame.

“Hello sir.” He muttered, giving him the hint of a smile. Instead of receiving a smile back, he received a piercing glare.

“He’s in his room.” The sheriff spat before storming past Derek and towards his car, leaving the front door wide open for him to enter. Derek watched as he left, noting the way his glare stayed fixed on him until he was no longer in his line of vision. It was clear that he had seen the pictures that had been circulating, meaning Stiles had almost definitely seen them too.  
After a few moments of hesitation, he made his way into the house, closing the door quietly behind him. There were beer bottles scattered all across the living room floor and the TV was still playing, though it had been muted. Derek’s nose was consumed with the scent of alcohol and pizza that flooded the house and he let out a deep sigh. The only time Stiles drank was when he was upset, and by the looks of empty alcohol bottles that were scattered around the house and considering the fact that it was only two in the afternoon, Stiles was very upset.

He made his way up the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible in hopes as not to startle his boyfriend. He walked towards the room they shared, carefully turning the door knob and pushing his way in. Stiles was sprawled out across the bed, his face was pushed into the pillow and his hair was sticking to his face from where he had been crying. To anyone else he would have looked completely at ease, though Derek could tell by the slightly strained look on his face that that was far from the truth. He laid the flowers down on the bedside table, making his way around to the other side of the bed and climbed in behind Stiles, curling his body around the younger man’s. He could feel the boy tensing in his arms and he tightened his grip, burying his head into his neck and inhaling the scent.

“I’m so sorry, Stiles. I’m so, so, so sorry. I fucked up.” Derek could tell by the way his boyfriends body shook beneath him that he was very much awake. He could hear the muffled sobs pouring out of his mouth as he tried his best to gain his composure and Derek began rubbing circles into his waist, trying to provide him with a little comfort, although he was pretty certain that there was nothing he could do to console him right now.

“Don’t touch me.” Stiles growled, pushing Derek’s hands off of him and shuffling away. Instead of moving back from him like he knew he should have done, Derek reached his arm out and pulled Stiles back into his embrace. Stiles was pushing against him, his arms and legs desperately flailing around in an attempt to release himself from Derek’s vice grip.

“Get off of me.” He screeched, turning in Derek’s arms and slamming his hands against his chest as hard as he could. “Get the hell off of me you bastard.”

Rather than fighting back against him, Derek just let it happen. He watched as the boy he loved fell apart in his arms, desperately trying to hurt Derek the way he had hurt him.

-

Derek’s phone had been ringing constantly for the past few hours and he had been purposely avoiding picking it up. He knew he would just receive an earful from his manager - not only about the pictures but about the fact that he had left in the middle of shooting. He wanted to get up to turn it off but he didn’t want to have to remove Stiles’ sleeping figure from his hold. Stiles had completely warn himself out. He had screamed and shouted until his voice had given out. He kicked and hit him until he no longer had the energy to fight. All the while, Derek had held him, trying his hardest to calm him down. He combed his fingers through the young man’s hair, pushing it out of his face. He was completely mesmerized by him, watching the shallow breaths leave his body.

“Just answer it.” Stiles grumbled after a while, still half asleep. Derek ignored him and continued to play with his hair, only to have Stiles let out a deep groan as he pushed himself up from the bed and storm towards the chest of draws where the phone was buzzing.  
“What?” He snapped as he held the phone to his ear. Derek ran his hand over his face, knowing that his manager wouldn’t appreciate the tone of voice. Stiles stayed quite for a minute, his eyes fixed to the floor as his free hand began fiddling with the bottom on his shirt. After another few minutes of Stiles being silent Derek began to grow worried and made his way up behind him, taking the phone away from his ear.

“Hello?” He said, watching as Stiles made his way out of the room and down the stairs.

“Derek?” Laura screeched. “Where the hell are you?”

-

“I want to know what happened.” Stiles said, looking up at the ceiling. Derek was stood beside the bed looking down at him.

“You know what happened, Stiles.”

“In detail. I want you to tell me exactly what happened. I want to know every detail.”

“I’m not going to do that, Stiles. I’m not going to hurt you like that.”

“I don’t think there is anything you could say that could possibly make me feel any worse that I do already.” Derek felt his heart sink as he hear those words fall from Stiles’ mouth and he dropped forward onto the bed.

“Please don’t make me do this to you, Stiles.” He cried, curling up next to him.

“What was his name?” Stiles whispered, flipping his body over so that they were face to face.

“Why does it matter what his name was?” Derek asked, nervously running a hand through his hair.

“What was his name?” Derek let out a small sigh and rested his hand over Stiles’.

“Max.”

“Max.” Stiles repeated in a small whisper. “Where did you meet him?”

Derek hesitated for a few seconds before replying. “In a bar.”

He didn’t understand why Stiles needed to know any of this, but he was willing to do anything as long as it kept Stiles talking to him. Stiles nodded, and Derek thought he was done.

“Was he better than me?” He asked in a small voice that made Derek want to just curl up in a ball and die. He looked completely broken, laying on the bed next to Derek and he didn’t know how to make it better, he just wanted to make all of this go away.

“Stiles.” Derek whined. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“So he was?” Although it came out as a question, Derek knew that Stiles had already confirmed the answer himself.

“I never said that, Stiles.”

“You didn’t have to.” 

-

The sheriff called him three days later. They were sat at the dining room table whilst Stiles was asleep upstairs. Stiles’ father had placed a cup of coffee down in front of Derek and then moved to the other side of the table, shifting around uncomfortably.

“I want you to leave him alone.” He blurted out, and Derek let out a bitter chuckle. 

“You know that’s not going to happen.” The sheriff - John - was glaring at him, a look of utter despair cast upon his features as he shuffled back into his chair.

“I just want what is best for my son.” John muttered, looking straight into Derek’s eyes. “He deserves far better than you.” 

Derek knew he was right - Stiles did deserve better. Hell, he could go out and find someone with no trouble, but Derek didn’t want that, Stiles was his - he didn’t care how selfish that made him, he loved that boy more than anyone else could.

“I’ll treat him right this time.” Derek voiced, and he meant it, he really, truly did.

“That’s what you said the last time. We’ve heard it all before, Derek. Nothing has changed.” The sheriffs voice was rising, his face flushed with anger as he slammed his fist firmly against the table. Derek startled at the movement, letting out a huff as he rubbed at his temple in an effort to relieve the headache that had been building. 

“I’ll fix this.” He stated, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to persuade more - himself or the Sheriff.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably warn you that it’s not a very happy ending - pls don’t hate me waah

“What do we do now?” Stiles and Derek were sat on opposite sides of the bed, staring directly at one another. “Stiles, I need you to say something.” But Stiles ignored him. It had been five days and Derek couldn’t get a word out of him. Stiles’ father had visited every day since - cleaning the house, washing the clothes, cooking the meals. Derek felt useless. He had thought, somewhat imprudently, that everything would work itself out, that being there with Stiles would be enough - he was beginning to have second thoughts. John had made his stay as unwelcoming as he possible could. Derek could tell he was itching to say something, to kick him out, to hurt him in some way, but he wouldn’t. Despite the deep hatred he had for the man, he knew that it had to be Stiles’ choice - it wasn’t down to him.

“I think I need to be alone for a while.” Stiles said, his voice still raw from the strain of crying. Derek felt his whole world shift, the bitter taste of bile making its way into his mouth. “You hurt me, Derek. You’re supposed to be the one person in my life that doesn’t hurt me.” And Derek left, ignoring the ache in his chest as he bent down to kiss the crown of his boy’s head, breathing in the sweet scent of his hair.

“I’ll be back, okay? I’m not letting this go without a fight.”

-

Scott was fuming. He’d never seen his friend like this, curled up in his lap as he wailed and whined. He looked completely helpless.

“I don’t think I can forgive him this time.” He had sobbed, clutching his shaking hands into Scott’s jumper, pulling himself in even closer.

“You don’t have to forgive him, Stiles. You don’t owe him anything.” Scott was peppering kisses along his forehead, trying to comfort him in any way he knew how. Stiles shifted his body so that he could bury his head into Scott’s shoulder, wiping his tears all over the other boy’s neck. “You deserve so much better, Stiles. I just wish you could see that.” Stiles body stiffened in his arms and Scott sighed, tangling his fingers in his hair.

“He loves me.” Stiles said, although his voice wavered slightly.

“I know he loves you - we all do, but that doesn’t meant he deserves to have you.” 

“I just want it to stop hurting Scott. I want him to stop hurting me.” Scott could feel his heart shatter at those words and he let out a miserable whine.

“I know, man. All you have to do is give it time.” Stiles shifted once again so that he could look up at Scott’s face. 

“And what about Derek?”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to talk with him about that. Your relationship will either heal, or it won’t.”

“I don’t know if I want it to.” He breathed, and Scott felt that he wasn’t meant to hear. However, he felt slightly relieved at those words, a small smile making its way onto his face. It was about time Stiles moved on.

-

Lydia came round later that evening after Scott had left. She stormed into the house, her fiery red hair swept over her shoulder and a slight smile on her face. 

“I came bearing gifts.” She giggled, throwing the shopping bag she had been holding down into Stiles’ lap before leaning down to give him a peck on the cheek. Stiles peeked inside the bag, sighing when he saw the bottles of alcohol.

“I’m not in the mood.” He grumbled, wincing when Lydia gave him a light slap on the cheek.

“Nonsense.” She declared. “You’re always in the mood to get drunk with your especially considerate best friend.” Lydia fell backwards onto the sofa, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “I just drove for over two hours to be with you. The least you could do is allow me to get you good and drunk.” Stiles smiled for the first time in five days, throwing his head back onto the sofa cushion and letting out a cackle.

“Thanks, Lydia.”

“Anytime.”

-

Half a bottle of vodka and five beers later, Stiles was completely comatose, his body draped across the living room floor. Lydia had tried, and failed, to reposition him onto the couch, only managing to injure herself in the process. She was sat in the armchair opposite, staring blankly at the television. Lydia had been devastated when she heard what had happened, wanting more than anything to be there for her best friend, but Scott had stopped her, telling her that he needed a few days. 

Lydia loved Derek - she really did. They had been friends for six years now, ever since Stiles and Derek began dating. That didn’t change the fact that right now she would love nothing more than to go and smash his head against a brick wall. Stiles was too good for him - they all knew it, every, single one of them - even Derek knew. She couldn’t understand why he kept going back, why he puts himself through this every time. 

Lydia was the one who found Stiles the first time he found out. It was two years into their relationship - Derek had just gotten his first part in a big play in New York and Stiles had gone to surprise him.

“What are you doing here?” Lydia had asked, tilting her head in confusion. Stiles was sat outside her apartment, his head resting on his knees. “Aren’t you supposed to be visiting Derek?” 

Stiles had looked up at her, his lip trembling as the tears began to pour from his eyes.

“He’s fucking her.” He cried, slamming his head back into the wall as his whole body began to shake.

“What the hell are you talking about, Stiles?” She questioned, perching down beside him and running her fingers through his hair.

“Thats woman he’s working with. He’s been sleeping with her.”

Lydia had held him through the night, rocking him gently as he had cried himself to sleep. Derek turned up at the door early the next morning looking worse for wear. He had barged his way through, not even taking the time to acknowledge Lydia before he made his way into the bedroom and began looking around, pulling the sheets off of the bed and then chucking them carelessly onto the floor.

“Where is he?” He yelled, pacing around the room.

“He went back home.” Lydia spat back, crossing her arms across her chest.

“I just looked - he’s not there. Just tell me where he is.” Lydia could tell that Derek was panicking. His face was flushed red, his hands clammy with sweat. “I need to speak to him, Lydia. He won’t answer his phone. I just want to talk to him.” Lydia couldn’t resist - he looked like a wounded animal standing there with his shoulders hunched over.

“He’s gone to see Scott and Allison.” Lydia let her guard fall slightly, dropping her arms back down. “I don’t think he wants to see you, Derek.”

“I’m going to fix this.” He had promised, making his way back out of the apartment. “We’ll be fine.” And they had been. They got back together almost a month later. Derek had done everything in his power to get Stiles back - he had stayed with him, pandering to his every need. He had sworn that it was a mistake, that it would never happen again, that he would change. Stiles had brought it - they all had. Before they knew it everything was back to normal, everyone was happy. 

A few months later it happened again, and again, and again. Stiles took him back every time, convincing himself that it would be different this time, that he would really change. Eventually it became something that they all began to ignore. They knew, deep down, what Derek was doing, but no one ever spoke about it - it was easier to forget. This time was different. They couldn’t ignore it this time, everybody knew. The pictures only heightened Stiles’ pain, adding humiliation to his long list of emotions. 

Stiles’ phone had been ringing for the past few minutes and Lydia glared at the picture of Derek that flashed on the screen. As soon as it rang off, he began to call again.

“What?” Lydia snapped, holding the phone to her ear.

“Lydia?” Derek questioned, disappointment evident in his voice. “Can you put Stiles on?”

“He can’t talk right now.” Lydia smiled to herself when she heard Derek let out a frustrated sigh. 

“Where is he?”

“He’s passed out.” She grumbled. “We had a little bit too much to drink.”

“For fuck sake, Lydia. Why the hell would you get him drunk? That’s the last thing he needs right now.”

Lydia couldn’t contain her anger, slamming her fist into the arm of the chair.

“I’m trying to help him, Derek. I’m trying to fix the mess that you made. Did you never consider that?” Before he had the chance to reply, she hung up the phone and dropped it down onto the floor.

-

Stiles called Derek the next morning, inviting him to come over so that they could talk. Stiles knew what he needed to do - he couldn’t go through the same thing over and over again, no matter how much he loved Derek.

When Stiles opened the door, Derek was leant against the frame, a smug look plastered across his face. It reminded him of their first date - Derek had turned up to the door with a bunch of roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, flashing Stiles a glimpse of his white teeth. Stiles had grinned back, taking the bottle from his hand, only to have it snatched out of his grip. His father was stood behind him with a face of thunder and Derek’s smile had dropped, causing Stiles to laugh.

“Supplying alcohol to minors?” The sheriff grunted and Stiles spun around, giving his father a quick hug before stepping out of the door.

“Relax, dad. I’ll see you later.” He said before grabbing Derek’s arm and pulling him towards the car.

“Your dad is going to kill me.” Derek stated with complete sincerity. “Oh my god, no one will ever find my body. I’ll be dead and nobody will even know.”

Stiles had just laughed at him and wrapped his arms around his neck, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

Stiles couldn’t understand how things had become so messed up.

Derek leant forward into the doorway, aiming to place a kiss of Stiles’ cheek. His whole body tensed when Stiles moved away from him, stifling a cough with the back of his hand.

“I made you some tea.” He said, moving them towards the dining room. Derek nodded, his stomach dropping slightly.

“You wanted to talk.” He said, taking a seat. Stiles looked at him defenselessly, wobbling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I can’t do this anymore, Derek.” He stated, cutting straight to the chase. Derek winced at the words, resting his head into his hands. He hadn’t been expecting this - this wasn’t how he had wanted this conversation to go.

“We need to think about this Stiles, I -” Before Derek could finish, Stiles cut him off.

“I have though about this. I love you, you know I do, but I don’t think that it’s enough for me anymore.” Derek could feel his pulse racing, could hear the blood rushing around in his head. He didn’t want this, he never wanted this. It was all so screwed up.

“Stiles, please.” He pleaded, grabbing the younger boys hands in his and rubbing his thumb across the knuckles. “I know I messed up, but I can fix this. We can fix this.”

“I’ve heard this all before, Derek.” He screeched. After a few moments he relaxed again, letting out a long sigh. “I’m not saying this is forever, Derek. I’m just saying that we shouldn’t be together right now.” Derek wanted to argue, he wanted to tell Stiles how wrong he was, how good they are together, but the words couldn’t seem to form on his tongue.

He could feel himself drop to the floor, kneeling down in front of Stiles. His head dropped down onto his thigh as he let out a pained cry. His hands reached up, clawing into his boyfriends trousers as he began to plead him to stay, begging him not to leave.  
“I love you, Derek.” He said, his voice trembling as he pushed Derek’s head out of his lap and began to stand. “You know I love you, but I’m not going to put myself through this again.”

Stiles grabbed his mug off of the table and began to walk away, ignoring the way Derek pawed at his lags, whimpering below him.

“Please, Stiles. Don’t do this.” Stiles stalled in the doorway for a second, spurring a small amount of hope in the pit of Derek’s stomach, but he didn’t turn around, he just kept walking, leaving Derek alone, knelt in the middle of the dining room floor.

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally deleted this story which I posted ages ago so I thought I would improve it and then re-post it :-)
> 
> I’m working on a new kind of writing styles so I’m sorry if it’s a but jumpy haaha


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